


Midgard

by quadrotriticale



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Gen, POV Second Person, POV Thor, lokis a bitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 00:47:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15183044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quadrotriticale/pseuds/quadrotriticale
Summary: Thor tries to have a peaceful day off.





	Midgard

**Author's Note:**

> lokis a fucking bitch i love him so much. im tired and i didnt proof this im sorry for spelling errors pls let me know in comments if you catch smthn

There’s a million and one things you could be doing right now, and all of them would be very productive, you’re sure, but you’re doing approximately none of them, opting instead to, despite your father’s repeated insistence that you stay on Asgard, take another trip to Midgard. Heimdall is your friend, and will definitely let you go. Yes, you’re completely sure about that. You make your way to the Bifrost, hum to yourself while you go.

Your plan for a day trip is going absolutely perfectly until there’s a crackle of green beside you and your brother pops out of it, dressed for the occasion like you are and infuriatingly smug. You ask him what he wants. 

“I couldn’t help but hear,” he starts, keeping step with you, “Lady Sif talking in the hall today. You’d never believe it, I heard you were planning to take another little day trip. And without me!” 

“Last time I took you, you killed someone,” you remind him, trying to walk a little faster even though he keeps pace with you. This bridge is too long, you’re kind of beginning to hate it. 

“Oh, bygones. We made a bet and he lost, fair is fair, and I don’t believe he would have lived much longer anyway,” you kind of want to punch him. You think if you punched him hard enough, he’d fall off the bridge. “How could you take a trip without me? I’m sure it’d be boring.” 

“I could easily take a trip without you, I enjoy it down there when I don’t have to make sure you aren’t swindling some poor mortal out of his life savings or destabilizing their lives for fun,” you’re sure you sound irritated, but he doesn’t seem to get the hint. The Bifrost seems like it’s getting further away even though you know it isn’t, and you still want to punch him. 

“Destabilizing! You misunderstand me, brother! I prefer to call it… enriching. Adding a little drama.” He does a peculiar little hand wave when he says drama, and you roll your eyes at him. “Really, their lives are so dull, I swear, they’d never do anything interesting without me.”

“You aren’t going to let me get out in peace, are you.” 

“I’m not,” Loki hums, hands clasped behind his back. 

“Fine,” you groan, and you finally seem to be approaching the bifrost, and you have to assume that it was your brother’s magic that made it take so long. Heimdall greets you, already knows your plans because of course he does, it’s Heimdall, and with a little convincing, resigns to let you pass. He lets you and your brother disappear through the bifrost, and reminds you to call for him when you want to come home. You give him a wave as you leave.

You arrive on Midgard where you intend to, just outside of a small town you’ve taken to visiting whenever you get the chance. You’re sure the saw the flash of light, it’s always hard to miss, but you take care to be out of the scorched circle before they flock to the sight. You blend carefully into the crowd, your brother by your side, and no one is any the wiser. 

“What is that,” you hear from one of the villagers, a voice you don’t recognize. It may have been longer than you intended since your last visit, you thought you knew everyone. 

“A message from the gods,” says another, an older voice, a proclamation which is followed by a lot of chatter. You slip from the throng and make your way down the path, Loki beside you with his hands still behind his back. 

“They’re quite simple,” he tells you matter of factly. 

“They’re lives are short,” you respond, shrugging, “They can’t help it.”

You make your way through the town, it’s twists and turns familiar to you. You note specific buildings, wooden structures topped with ornamental figures you don’t quite recognize, until you find the one you know to be their tavern. You slip in the door, make your way through the largely empty building with the intention of purchasing something to drink. It will do nothing for you and you know that, but you’ve taken to the taste of their ale. 

The man behind the counter, greying and old, hands you a mug when you ask, and you pay for it with a few gold coins. He seems a little taken aback, though you aren’t sure why. You take a seat at one of the tables, and Loki trails you. 

“What is your purpose from coming down here?” he asks, sounding bored. “Do you just like the scenery?”

“I do, yes,” you respond, more than a little irritated, “can’t I take a trip and not have you ruin it?”

“You really can’t, obviously, if you must come down here, I have to be involved somehow,” he drawles, and for the second time today, you’re about ready to punch him. You wonder if you can punch him hard enough to get him to stop talking. “It’s much more interesting down here, I think, I’m getting rather sick of tormenting Baldur. There really are only so many times you can threaten a man’s life before it gets boring.” 

“Yes, and he’s getting sick of you,” you take a sip of your ale, listen to Loki sigh dramatically beside you. 

“He’s boring, frankly, there just aren’t any better targets.” You roll your eyes, but he keeps talking. “Here, though, everyone is a fresh face. Like- Like that barmaid over there,” he motions as indistinctly as he possibly can to a woman cleaning glasses just across the tavern. “I’m sure I could trick her out of her firstborn child.”

“Loki-”

“I don’t particularly need or want her child, but I could trick her out of it.”

“Loki, please-”

“I’m going to! Since you obviously don’t believe that I can, I’m-”

You smack him upside the head, and he whines at you. 

“You really didn’t need to do that, brother.”

“Are you really so bored at home that you feel the need to trick some mortal woman out of her firstborn child?”

“I am,” he responds, sounding somewhere between amusement and whining-child. 

“This is why I didn’t want to bring you,” you tell him, whining a little yourself. 

“No, of course, you just wanted to come down here, drink their ale, and possibly instigate a bar fight. I have much more enterprising ideas, clearly.” 

You groan. “We’re going home.”

“Oh, why? We just got here, dear brother, why cut your trip short?” 

You take a sip of your ale to avoid him briefly, but when you turn back to speak to him, you find that he’s vanished. You’re mostly convinced that you’re brother styled himself after a witch. You’re a little frustrated, but you’re mostly concerned. 

You leave your mug on the table, hurry out of the building once you’ve determined that your brother isn’t there. Your problem, of course, is that your brother could look like anyone. You ask around the town, though no one seems to have seen anyone matching his description. You look for what you’d guess is an hour before you give up, decide he’ll surface when he’s done whatever terrible thing he’s decided he needs to do while he’s down here, and try to enjoy your day the way you’d originally planned. After all, there wasn’t much you could do. If Loki didn’t want to be found, there wasn’t going to be much you could do to find him. 

You spend your time chatting with the locals, introducing yourself with a name you made up sometime ago if they ask. When they ask you where you’re from, you say some place far away, say you’re here to visit an old friend, or that you’re just passing through on your way to so and so other place, a different one each time. You try their food, busy yourself with their stories, with all that’s changed since the last time you were here. It’s still a nice place. You think you’ll visit here the next time you get a chance, again. Midgard and it’s people fascinate you, their many languages and cultures drawing your attention in more directions than you have the time or the means to study in one, short trip. Despite your overall anxiety about your brother, you wouldn’t say you have a bad day. 

Loki surfaces around mid-evening, a smug expression on his face, though he won’t tell you what it’s about no matter how much you press him. He follows you back out of town, far enough that it shouldn’t be hard for you to get away unnoticed, and you call for Heimdall, still lacking an explanation for Loki’s absence and his stupid grin. 

Your father is irritated when you get home, but it’s nothing you can handle. The incident with your brother gets mostly put out of your mind. Things stay relatively normal. 

(It is, however, some months later when you find out that he did end up tricking that poor woman out of her first born child. You make him return the infant. He isn’t particularly happy with you.)


End file.
